Lin Shijin felt as though even lifting his arm required effort. He didn’t want to go out; he only wanted to curl up in his own corner and turn into a small patch of moss, or a little stone.
His fingertips were lightly gripping the blanket, his head foggy. After he finished speaking, Sheng Rufei didn’t respond for quite a while. When he turned over, he accidentally kicked Sheng Rufei through the blanket. He’d been sitting at the edge of the bed.
No need to think about it; Sheng Rufei would certainly be displeased with him for being so lazy. He hesitated a little, not wanting to make Sheng Rufei unhappy.
But he really didn’t want to go out.
Lin Shijin was still struggling when he felt a chill at the nape of his neck. The youth at the bedside lifted a corner of the blanket, his voice pausing slightly. “If you don’t get up, I’ll leave.”
Hearing this, Lin Shijin became unhappy. He was very obviously so. He sat up slowly, as though using all his willpower.
His Daoist robe lay to one side; he was still in his inner garments. He slowly reached for the robe, moving far more sluggishly than usual, his head spinning.
His eyelids kept drooping. Feeling the youth’s cool, frosty gaze, he muttered softly, “Shixiong, I really haven’t any strength.”
He remembered what Feng Qing had told him the day before. He was likely affected by the Snow Lotus Sacred Heart. Thinking of that soft, fluffy little dumpling… lazy, timid, and forgetful.. he felt even worse.
He might end up like that, too.
Lin Shijin was quietly fretting. He pinched his brows together, still wrestling with his robe, when a figure appeared before him.
“Unwell?” Sheng Rufei asked quietly.
Lin Shijin nodded, still groggy. A hand came to rest against his forehead, his skin pressing into a cool palm.
“No fever.”
“It’s the Snow Lotus Sacred Heart Shizun gave me yesterday,” Lin Shijin said. Even sitting felt tiring, and with Sheng Rufei in front of him, he quietly leaned closer, wanting to rest against him.
“Feng Qing said I’d be affected.”
The Snow Lotus Sacred Heart was a sacred object recorded in the ancient texts. Upon hearing this, Sheng Rufei’s fingers paused. His mind was sharp; he understood the reasoning at once.
He also realised why Feng Rugao had left Changming Hall a few days prior.
He had read the texts thoroughly; he knew the nature of the Snow Lotus Sacred Heart. At first, anyone who consumed it would be influenced by becoming lazy, shy of people, forgetful, and their constitution would change. The Snow Lotus Sacred Heart was the softest thing in the world.
A youth who had consumed it would naturally be affected.
Sheng Rufei lowered his gaze to tie the youth’s sash. Lin Shijin squirmed, uncomfortable; he had already been half leaning against Sheng Rufei, and now tucked himself fully into his arms. “Shixiong, I’m not comfortable,” he said, wrapping both arms around him to avoid his hands.
“The robe’s uncomfortable,” Lin Shijin complained. Wearing only his inner garments was fine, but putting on the robe made him uncomfortable; the fabric rubbed against his skin, rough and irritating.
“Can’t I not wear it?”
He continued bargaining softly, but Sheng Rufei didn’t pause, dressing him without giving him the chance to object.
Lin Shijin didn’t even get the chance to ask him to stop. He was displeased and shifted, tugging at Sheng Rufei’s sleeve, unwilling to let him leave.
“Shixiong, I’m uncomfortable.”
He tugged softly at Sheng Rufei’s sleeve, feeling as though even sitting up drained him. He only wanted to order Sheng Rufei about and have him do everything for him.
Sheng Rufei usually indulged him and wasn’t good at refusing. Lin Shijin had secretly noted that before. Now he remembered and pushed his advantage.
“Bear with it for today. Later I’ll go to the Scripture Pavilion; they have cicada-silk robes.”
Cicada-silk was light as gossamer and wouldn’t irritate the skin.
Having received the promise, Lin Shijin’s displeasure faded. He slowly loosened Sheng Rufei’s collar. “All right.”
His shoes were still off. This time, before Lin Shijin could speak, Sheng Rufei took hold of his ankle.
The youth’s slightly rough fingertips wrapped around it. Lin Shijin’s toes curled faintly, feeling a little awkward. He only pulled back a little, not fully.
Of course he was happy to have Sheng Rufei help him with his shoes.
“Shixiong, you’re such a good person.” Lin Shijin thought Sheng Rufei was probably just annoyed at how slow and clumsy he was, but he was still delighted, swinging his leg as he praised him.
Sheng Rufei: “…”
Half-kneeling on the floor, Sheng Rufei could only imagine that, at the youth’s dawdling pace, he might drag things out until the lesson was over. The Snow Lotus Sacred Heart was famed for its slowness, being perpetually lazy and unmoving.
He held the youth’s ankle. Lin Shijin had a habit of swinging his legs and was naturally restless; only after Sheng Rufei held him down did he behave a little better.
Because he had consumed the Snow Lotus Sacred Heart, his body had also been affected, making his skin was more delicate, his feet long, slender, and well-shaped, his toes like warm white jade. Even a slight touch made him curl his toes uncomfortably.
Wrapped in snow-white cotton socks, he kept fidgeting, his toes lightly pressing on Sheng Rufei’s knee, looking as though he were about to fall asleep again.
Lin Shijin’s head kept drooping. His vision blurred. He watched Sheng Rufei kneeling before him, putting on his shoes. His silver hair fell like a waterfall at his sides, eyes lowered, expression intent.
He noticed that Sheng Rufei had a bit of an obsessive streak: when putting on the socks, the heights had to match exactly. If they didn’t, he would remove and redo them.
“So much trouble,” Lin Shijin yawned. He stepped lightly on Sheng Rufei’s knee, accidentally kicking him, and Sheng Rufei caught his ankle.
“Don’t move.”
Lin Shijin stopped fidgeting and waited for him to finish putting on his shoes. In the end, Sheng Rufei practically dragged him out the door.
With their dawdling, they were nearly late for sword practice, and Lin Shijin continued to lag behind on the way.
He walked slowly, while Sheng Rufei walked faster. So he tugged at Sheng Rufei’s sleeve. “Shixiong, wait for me.”
“Don’t walk so fast.”
After that, Sheng Rufei slowed down. Lin Shijin walked for a while like that, tugging his sleeve, still some distance from the Sword Pavilion.
He felt exhausted and drowsy. Half-dozing, he felt something cool touch his fingertips. Sheng Rufei had taken his hand.
“Stay with me. Don’t fall asleep.”
Sheng Rufei reckoned that if he didn’t hold onto him, this fool would walk straight into a wall. His own fingers were a little stiff, but given the youth’s condition, he told himself holding his hand wasn’t overstepping.
“I’m not asleep,” Lin Shijin murmured, being led along. Remembering the day before, he asked vaguely, “Shixiong, was it true what you said yesterday… can we really go to Wuxiang Mountain together?”
Sheng Rufei gave a quiet hum. “I’ve discussed it with the Sect Leader. He agreed.”
“Then why didn’t Shixiong look at me in the hall yesterday?”
Lin Shijin was still bothered by it. He hadn’t told Sheng Rufei why Feng Rugao was angry. How could he possibly have guessed? Hearing the youth’s question, Sheng Rufei’s lashes lowered. He already knew his shizun’s thoughts regarding the boy, and since he himself had not yet matured fully, if Feng Rugao sensed anything…
He might no longer be allowed to remain by his side.
“It was my fault,” Sheng Rufei said, his fingertips brushing the youth’s head, gently ruffling his hair. His voice was cool. “I’ll tell you in time.”
Lin Shijin was left hanging. He wanted to know, but Sheng Rufei clearly wouldn’t tell him even if he asked again.
He followed Sheng Rufei, their fingers interlaced, their wrists still bound by a red string. The threads twisted together, inseparable.
As they neared the Sword Pavilion, Sheng Rufei let go.
“If you really can’t stay awake, I’ll speak to the elder and send you back. Listen to as much as you can. He may go over matters regarding Wuxiang Mountain. You’ll be going in a few days, so better to be prepared.”
Lin Shijin nodded like a pecking chick. He yawned, and the youth in front of him glanced at the silver lock at his neck, lowering his voice. “Once we reach Wuxiang Mountain, I’ll find a way to remove it.”
“Shixiong…” Lin Shijin perked up slightly. He looked into Sheng Rufei’s eyes which were still cold, all emotion hidden.
He felt a little shy, a little moved, and said, in a slightly stiff tone, “Thank you, Shixiong.”
Sheng Rufei treated him so well that he couldn’t help recalling how, in his heart, he used to rank pastries above Sheng Rufei. Now, he could nudge Sheng Rufei up a little; at this rate, he would soon catch up with the pastries in his affections.
There were no formal lessons in the Sword Pavilion today. Elder Song had instructed them to spar in pairs, the groupings arranged more or less by cultivation level: the strongest paired with the weakest, the second strongest with the second weakest, and so on.
Lin Shijin wasn’t the worst, but he certainly wasn’t good. He had been worried he’d be paired with someone he barely knew… especially as he wasn’t in top condition today. But in the end he was put together with Jing Qiuhong.
The two of them were practically like two fledglings pecking at each other. The elders told them to spar, so they dutifully put on a show: you tap me once, I tap you once.
Jing Qiuhong very quickly noticed something was off. His sword-qi swept aside as he asked, “What’s wrong with you today? Didn’t sleep well? You look as though you can’t even lift your sword.”
Lin Shijin nodded. “I’ve no strength in me. It’s been like this for a few days.”
“Then why are you still training? Go speak to the elder and head up to the Medicine Master Peak for a check.”
“I can’t. My shixiong said I’m not allowed to leave.”
They were still muttering between themselves when Elder Song’s gaze fell on them. “Sheng Rufei, switch places with Jing Qiuhong. Go supervise your shidi. Don’t let him idle.”
“If he doesn’t know what he’s doing, teach him.”
At that, Lin Shijin could only stand where he was. Jing Qiuhong shot him a look of profound sympathy, hoisted his sword, and left to swap positions with Sheng Rufei.
Lin Shijin actually felt somewhat relieved. If he had to be paired with someone, Sheng Rufei was better. They were stationed a little further from the other disciples, so he spoke honestly. “Shixiong, I really can’t lift my sword.”
He clutched the longsword, his whole body weak and lacking strength. Elder Song still had an eye trained on them, no doubt worried he was slacking off.
“I’ve just watched your bout with Jing Qiuhong,” Sheng Rufei said. “You rely too much on momentum when you train. There are a few mistakes you keep making.”
Lin Shijin was still trying to listen when Sheng Rufei stepped in behind him, right after he’d said he couldn’t lift the sword. His wrist was taken in a steady grip, his back coming to rest against Sheng Rufei’s chest. A faint scent of fallen plum blossom drifted under his nose.
The brush of the youth’s breath grazed his ear, and it felt as if Sheng Rufei had gathered him fully into his arms.
A low voice murmured against his ear, warm and ambiguous.
“If you can’t lift the sword, I’ll help you.”
